Page 30 of An Island Summer
She felt protective of Rupert, and she hoped to get some sort of explanation from him about Toby, although she wasn’t terribly hopeful. She carried the dress into Rosewood Manor, avoiding leaving it in the heat of the car, and pushed Rupert’s door open, the plastic rustling against her legs when she entered with the garment.
“Hi, Rupert,” she said as she hung it up on the closet door.
“Morning, my dear,” he said over his readers, the newspaper spread out on his lap. He folded it and set it aside, eyeing the dress. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a dress I’m taking to the cleaners,” she said, lifting the plastic to give him a peek.
“Ah, it’s lovely.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she asked, admiring it.
“You should wear that on the plane when you go to the Oscars. It’s a charming travel dress.”
“Maybe,” she said, trying to answer without actually answering.
He peered down at his paper, that confused, glazed look washing over him.
“You okay, Rupert?” she asked.
“Hm?” He looked up. “Oh, hello, dear. What do you have there?”
His question startled her. “It’s a dress I’m taking to the cleaners,” she repeated slowly, the fact that he’d already forgotten worrying her.
“Ah yes, I recognize it now.”
“You do?” she asked, trying not to change her lighthearted tone, and sitting down in the chair in the corner of the room.
“You wore it to dinner with the Baldwins, remember? That producer.”
Meghan nodded, wondering if she could somehow talk him back into his real thoughts. Maybe she could challenge that brain of his and snap him out of this delusion. She opened her mouth to ask him about Toby, but decided not to. She could tell by Rupert’s demeanor that he needed to stay in this moment a little longer. “How didwemeet, Rupert?” Perhaps he’d realize that he’d never really met Hester and, like the moment he remembered his actual wife at dinner, he’d remember where he was right now.
“You don’t remember?” he asked, looking dejected.
“I just want to hear you tell me,” she said with a smile.
He sat back with a satisfied pout. “All right then. You were on the bench near Peabody’s Bait Shop, in that yellow button-up dress with the collar, showing off a figure we’d never seen on the barrier islands before.” He looked down bashfully and then met her eyes again. “You’d taken off your white gloves and set them beside you, and you were writing a postcard you’d bought. Do you remember?”
She gave him an encouraging nod. “Keep going.”
“I sat down next to you and even though you didn’t know me from Adam, you gave me that mischievous look of yours. You turned the card around and asked if I’d check your spelling. I remember gasping at the languagea ladyhad used.” He tipped his head back and chuckled. “It was addressed to your aunt. I still remember it. ‘I’m not coming home. My return trip is postponed indefinitely. It’s damn near perfect here.’”
Captivated, Meghan broke out into a huge smile, but right then Rupert’s faded.
“We only had that one unspoiled year before everything fell apart…We were so secluded and Roosevelt didn’t say a thing to anyone.” He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “The Germans sank a fleet of ships off the coast… No one could believe it,” he said in a whisper. “That was when you first wanted to leave.”
Meghan now recognized the shiftiness in his gaze as he got agitated. Unsure of what to do, she jumped up and grabbed his hand. “I’m here now,” she said, all hope of finding out anything about his grandson sliding away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He settled down and stared into her eyes, his tense muscles relaxing. “Do you promise?”
“Yes,” she said, and she meant it.
On the way home from seeing Rupert and dropping the dress at the cleaners, Meghan caught sight of the Outer Banks Museum. As she slowed down, Rupert’s story about the Germans stayed with her. Suddenly, she found herself pulling in. She sat in her car, staring at the door to the small building. She’d never been there before in all her years of going to the Outer Banks, and she wondered why she was sitting there now. Rupert had been so believable that she was curious to find out what was real and what wasn’t.
She texted Tess that she’d be home soon, then let herself out of the car and made her way up the stairs and into the tiny three-room museum, her skin prickling with the hope that Rupert’s recollection of a German invasion had been real. Pacing along the edges of the room, she began her search with paintings of Fort Raleigh’s colonists that would later be known as “The Lost Colony” and continued on, reading about the war between the states and how they shaped the coastline.
“Hello,” the museum curator said, startling her as he came in from another room. “May I help you with anything?”
“I was curious to see if you had any memorabilia from the Outer Banks during World War Two. I’m specifically looking for a naval battle,” she replied.
